Gypsy Origins

“She’s not Idun,” he says as his smile fades away. “I’ll be feeding from her, Arion. Violet’s already softening toward me, and my heart’s going to be a little more into it this time. I don’t have the same fondness for Idun you do. It’s not a good thing that Violet recognizes how much you love that bitch.”

“I warned her I fall the hardest,” I say absently, peering into all his little compartments. Not much in the way of interesting belongings. “But she’ll figure out I’m with her so long as she’s alive. Idun is a nonissue until it comes time to deal with her.”

“I’m sure Violet will really love hearing that,” he tells me in that tone he uses when he’s trying to get me to unravel my master plan for him.

It’s unnervingly insulting how stupid they find me.

“There’s no diabolical agenda, Damien. I want Violet. I happen to be genuinely fond of her, and I am obviously very protective of her. Idun broke my rules once,” I tell him, glancing back out the window at the passing town that has certainly changed over the years. “More than once, really. However, I had certain ones she wasn’t allowed to cross. She foolishly crossed them. That became clear when you were able to put me underground like it was the only remaining option.”

“It was the only remaining option,” he grinds out.

“Violet’s her punishment and our reward,” I continue, undeterred.

“Again, I’m not so sure Violet will find that quite as romantic as you do,” he states dryly, as I stare out the window and spot her van at the end of the driveway. “Emit noted that Violet had a really big problem with Shera essentially being a stand-in for Emily. I caution you to find a softer phrasing. It’s about the only advice you’ll be getting from me.”

“Violet’s not going to be the stand-in,” I say idly. “If Idun wants us, she’ll watch and learn the new way we want to be treated. I prefer Violet’s way. All of you clearly do as well. Idun enjoys imitation. She’ll be the stand-in.”

He parks the car very slowly.

“It’s funny how sane I feel when I hear the ludicrous shit that spews from your mouth,” he says as he pushes open the door.

“I think it’s brilliant, and if you idiots had half the brains you think you do, you’d follow my lead. She was always better to me when she was Victoria.”

He turns abruptly, stepping so that we’re chest to chest and eye to eye.

“This is why you’re insane. In your mind, you still find Idun to be a future option. You think this is another thing we’ll just move on from. But I’ve been done with Idun for a really long time. Permanently, Arion. I was willing to live a life of celibacy. Me.”

I shake my head and blow out a breath. “I’m trying to fix that. Can’t you see?”

He points a finger at me. “I’d fill you in on how complicated this all is really going to be, but I hate you too much in this moment to give you that.”

He turns and walks away, and I’m gob-smacked, truth be told. I put my hands on my hips and just stare at his back, trying to figure out what bug is up his ass.

Giving up, I move by him too quickly for him to register the motion, and end up in Vance’s room.

I’m quiet as I take a seat and watch Violet carefully dab a wet cloth to his forehead.

She’s stripped his torso that is sweating profusely, and I notice he’s wearing different pants. It’s certainly chilly in here, but I can make it colder.

“Did you change him?” I ask her, startling her as she looks over her shoulder at me in wide-eye, stunned surprise.

I grin at her.

“That is another reason why you don’t have an invitation into my house,” she says very pointedly.

“Damien gives you a pathetic routine, and you leave a window open to aid his perverted watching,” I very reasonably point out to her.

Damien shoots me a warning look as he walks in, before shifting his attention to her. I hate the way he smiles at her. I hate it because her heart picks up two extra beats between minutes when he does it.

I can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement, because it’s apparently fear and excitement with me.

I’m sure she feels the same about him. I don’t want the fucking fear.

They hate Idun because they fear her.

“Emit’s curse had waves of different things. Is Vance going to be the same?” she asks him.

“Not exactly. He gets hotter, and it gets harder to keep his temperature down. I’ve helped out a time or two, but don’t tell him that. He’ll kick my ass for it, and it’s been too long since I had a proper feeding.”

His eyes rake over her, and I sit back, content to watch their familiar interactions.

“I guess that was before you hated him and treated him so terribly,” Violet says absently, the vast majority of her attention trained on Vance.

Her touch is soft, careful, attentive…everything I want to feel.

I decide to get comfortable, and it gets even chillier in the room than it already is.

Violet looks around, like she’s searching for an open window.

“That’s me, love. Temperatures in rooms drop a little when I need them to or get angry. Creature of midnight,” I remind her, smirking.

She pulls a blanket over her shoulders as she settles in beside Vance, sitting next to him and feeling his cheek.

“Why did you change his pants?” I ask her, even as she rolls her eyes.

“Because those were some of his good ones. I didn’t know if there’d be blood, but I know he only allows blood on certain clothes,” she tells me like it’s obvious and she’s annoyed for having to point it out.

My lips start curving in a slow grin.

My eyes stay fixed on her, because she’s a lot of fun to watch.

I’m sticking this out indefinitely. Idun can hang out in the cold for a few decades, while I soak in all the warmth Violet can offer.

Chapter 18

VIOLET

“Is Emit—”

“Full moon tonight, love. Much too dangerous to be around you right now,” Arion tells me like he knew what I was going to ask.

He has music playing at an almost-loud volume, as if Vance isn’t lying on the bed and suffering.

He lights up a cigar, before tossing another to Damien, as he goes through Vance’s room like he knows where everything is hidden.

Which is weird, since when he was watching them, Vance was living in Damien’s house instead of this one.

Handclap starts playing, and Arion starts actually dancing through the room, as he strips out of his shirt and continues checking all of Vance’s drawers.

That song is way too upbeat for what poor Vance is going through.

“He doesn’t sit still very often,” Damien tells me as he lights his own cigar, feet propped up on the bed beside me where he’s pulled up his chair.

Arion’s head falls back, as he grins and closes his eyes, just moving to the music. He even claps his hands with the rapid beats, smiling around his cigar when he catches me watching.

He goes to drop onto the couch across from me, and even when lying down, he continues dancing and doing the hard hand-clapping beats. The cigar hangs from his mouth as he puffs it without touching it with his busy hands.

I can only imagine how bad it was to be stuck in that casket…awake…if he’s that riled most of the time.

“You didn’t spend long with Emily,” I finally say when I realize I’m still staring and he’s grinning like he’s winning a prize.

Damien’s head snaps up, and he shoots a look to Arion, as if he’s asking what the hell I’m talking about.

Arion is too busy wiggling on the couch, still dancing.

“Emily’s here?” Damien asks in a...harsh tone.

“Yep,” is all Arion says, making the word pop, more focused on the song.

He has one leg hanging off the sofa now, as he bobs with the rhythm and grabs a newspaper to read. My attention drops to Vance when he makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

I’m sure he’d most certainly hate everything going on in this room right now, including me trying to keep his fever down as much as possible.

“Shouldn’t you be there?” Damien asks very angrily.

“Violet’s scared of me,” he says without really explaining, as the song changes. “I think it’s clear she hasn’t spent nearly enough time with me, and I’m not as far ahead as I thought.”

I huff out a breath, unsure how to even address that, as I smooth the rag over Vance’s chest again.

“I’ll need help changing the sheets and such in a couple of days, because I can’t move him around on my own,” I tell Damien.

Arion now seems excited about Idun rising, given all the dancing and jubilance, yet he’s still here and talking as though nothing has changed.

However, I note that he’s not all over me while I’m in the same room, and that’s a change.

I give him a dubious look, trying to figure him out.

“Emit’s not going to be pleased you told him about Idun,” Damien tells me seriously.

“Fuck Emit,” Arion states as he gets up on the couch and starts playing air guitar.

“I think you fail to understand what we have to deal with,” Damien states dryly.

He gestures over to Arion when the vampire starts bouncing on the couch, still puffing that thick cigar.

Vance makes a choked sound, and my attention quickly returns to him. He’s getting hotter.

“From what I understand, Vance is the only one who really deals with anyone or anything. You and Emit just check in when you’re not busy being checked out, and Arion does whatever Arion does to drive you all insane,” I murmur quietly, looking at the downed man who really would hate us all being in here to see him like this.

Or at least act like he hated it.

“What did Vance do to make you like him so much? Aside from painting your toenails, love. I just can’t lower myself to that,” Arion says from across the room as he starts trying to crack Vance’s hidden safe.

Does the vampire ever sit still?

“A lot of things,” I say dismissively.

“I want specifics,” he says as he grins over his shoulder, snuffing out the cigar.

“Vance painted your toenails?” Damien interjects like he has to circle back to that, because it sounds as insane as most things out of Arion’s mouth.

“It was possibly one of the nicest things anyone has done for me, since it was to calm me down,” I tell him.

Arion narrows his eyes at Vance like he’s the reason I’m annoyed right now.

“He also acted like it was no big deal that he’d cooked all my favorite breakfast things, or tracked me down on the road home because he was genuinely worried about me, or gave me a weapon—the first he’s ever gifted to an outsider—to keep me safe when I needed it. He does things without pointing them out, and I’ve probably missed a lot, because I don’t really know him well enough to note the things he does differently toward me than others. I was focused on the rejection. Not the kind things,” I add quietly, sponging his forehead again.