Gypsy Origins

“I don’t want to celebrate for you,” I tell Damien, who drags her back down to the bed, kissing her smiling lips, but she quickly disentangles, moving toward me.

She drops to her knees in front of me, tapping her chin as though she’s notably thinking.

“If breaking the curses without the use of this somewhat ominous, unforgiving council depends on solving the puzzles of your existence, I’m going to need more than the gist of your curse.”

Damien’s eyes lift to mine like he’s enjoying this.

“Why did you let yourself go under in my house?” I ask him, derailing this conversation.

“Because you have silver chains, and I don’t. They usually work better,” Damien says with zero emotion.

Violet is still close, and I put my arm around her, pulling her to me to feel her closer.

She makes a surprised sound she never makes with Damien, and my gaze darts to her lips before my eyes meet hers.

“The whole reason you like him is because he’s pathetic, but he’s getting less pathetic by the moment,” I tell her, since she should be clear on how quickly she’s changing things. “I, however, am rather pathetic in this terribly sad moment.”

Damien’s rumble of laughter seems to ease whatever’s in Violet’s head, and she leans over to placate me with a chaste kiss on the lips.

He gets her throwing herself to his monster, and I get an innocent kiss.

“Violet,” Damien says as he moves off the bed and steps in behind her, his lips going to her neck as I hold her to me, “do you trust me?”

“Not really, no,” she says as she moves her neck to the side, giving him more access.

I resist the urge to smile at her response, as Damien fights his own grin and meets my eyes.

“Do you trust him?” he asks with amusement, as her eyes open on me.

She stares at me, as she turns her head just enough to let him know she’s speaking to him. “More than I trust you.”

My legs stop burning, and just enough feeling comes back for me to stand at last.

Violet watches me as I unsteadily move to the bed, taking a seat.

“Then go to him,” Damien tells her, kissing up the side of her neck.

Violet stands, looking between us as though she’s trying to figure out what exactly is happening, but clearly getting the idea, as she moves toward me with wary, guarded excitement in her eyes.

I reach over and tug free the threading at her shoulder, and the homemade toga drops.

She immediately covers herself, though her eyes are locked to mine, as I pull her to me by her hips.

“How much do you trust us?” I ask her as Damien steps in behind her, still kissing her neck, as he drops what remains of his jeans and steps out of them.

“Enough to know you don’t want to see me physically hurt,” she says on a quiet breath, even as her heartbeat speeds up.

Speeding up is a good thing. It’s dropping that’s not so good.

Standing again, I drop my Thursday pajama pants and my boxer-briefs. Violet’s eyes rake over my body in a way that suggests she’s trying not to enjoy what she sees so much.

My lips tug in a smug grin as I take my seat once more, spreading my legs a little, as Damien lifts her off the ground.

“Funny how your legs started working for this,” Damien says as my hands dart out and spread her legs, guiding them around my hips, as he moves her to my lap.

“Motivation is usually key in any recovery,” I tell him just before I kiss Violet to keep her from thinking too hard.

I hate Damien, but if he’s offering to share her, I’ll make an exception for today.

Her tense body relaxes against mine, and her hands thread in my hair, while she lowers herself completely onto my lap.

I reach between us, even as she rubs against my painfully hard cock. I swear it’s not at attention like a teenager’s under normal circumstances, but Violet isn’t quite a normal circumstance.

I work myself against her, teasing her lips with small nibbles in between dominating her mouth. She hesitantly starts letting me guide her onto me, slowly sliding down my length, kissing me harder as she does.

“This is a real celebration, sweet gypsy,” Damien says from behind her.

I know he’s touching her, because I can feel the heady pheromones starting up, making this even better for her now that she’s committed.

She moans against my lips, reminding me I’m supposed to be kissing her. All I can think about is how good she feels against me as I slowly drop back, letting her hips do all the rocking.

It all feels too good after so much unbearable pain.

She follows me, and my hand smooths down her back, feeling her skin glide against mine until she tenses and stills, clearly put off by what Damien is doing behind her.

“Focus on me,” I murmur against her lips, as Damien’s presence engulfs us.

My eyes catch his over her shoulder, before his gaze drops to her ass, gently working himself in.

Violet tenses again, and I kiss her, swallowing her sounds as I hold her still.

I feel the pressure of Damien filling her from behind, making it all the tighter, as Violet presses firmly against me, kissing me through a moan. Damien doses the air more, presumably turning every bit of pain she feels into the perfect bite of pleasure, and fucking with my head too.

I genuinely forgot how good it feels to be so lost in a moment that it becomes too surreal. But as Violet kisses me harder, adjusting quickly, and prompts us to start moving, this moment becomes all that exists.

My hips roll up, matching Damien’s rhythm, and Violet lets us guide her body, trusting us far more than she claims.

No boundaries.

No words.

Just utter, complete, divine surrender.

Pleasure burns in every one of my veins, as she breaks the kiss to cry out, clenching on me. Damien grabs her hair, roughly turning her enough to swallow the rest of her sounds as he takes her mouth with his.

She breaks away when I start moving again, and her head falls next to mine, her lips free to finally make her soft, unbidden little sounds.

My hands are everywhere, feeling everything on her I can, as Damien continues to match my rhythm. I pull her to me when pleasure rolls over me in so many directions that it physically hurts in the best possible way.

My groan gets muffled against her neck as I cling to her, shuddering as my eyes roll back in my head.

Damien makes some sound above us, and goes still against her as well, as all three of us pant for air.

Our breaths are all you can hear for a long while. That took a lot less time than what is dignified.

“I thought you two hated each other,” Violet says on a tired sigh as she drops to me.

I scrub a hand over my face, mostly to keep from smiling, as Damien grins against her shoulder.

“I guess that means this is technically a double date,” Damien adds, shaking his head. Then his eyes meet mine, and he smirks as he leans down to kiss Violet’s neck. “Think you can keep up, Van Helsing?”

Violet’s questioning eyes meet mine with timid curiosity, while I brush her hair from her face.

“Indeed,” I decide aloud.

Chapter 20

EMIT

“What I’m asking is how could she have broken the curse?” Arion asks me like I somehow have all the answers.

“Emily hasn’t been here for a hundred years, Arion. How long is she staying?” I ask in deflection.

“Damien’s Portocale nightmare curse is broken, and you’re focused on Emily?” he asks like I’m as stupid as they come.

“Damien’s curse can’t be broken, Arion. He’d be the last one they let free. Even you’d get a pass before him, simply because they hate all Morpheous men equally,” I tell him, dutifully explaining why he’s the idiot.

“He’s was only down for two days, and now he’s already awake, drinking champagne. You can send pictures of yourself drinking champagne to your other mates, who still have to suffer,” Arion tells me as if he’s highly offended how much easier technology has made Damien’s gloating.

I forgot Damien knew how to gloat.

“The other pictures are nice, though. However, I’m positive he sent them to gloat about what he and Vance are doing to her, while I’m still trying to figure out a way to make her fear me less,” he goes on, staring at the screen of his phone from several different angles.

“She’s going to be really pissed about those pictures,” I inform him. “Damien will be in trouble again.”

“Or she wanted him to send them to taunt me,” he suggests.

“She’s not Idun,” I remind him as we head inside the house. I pause when I hear the telltale signs that the fun’s not over. “Stop thinking that she thinks like Idun.”

Arion stills, frowning as he listens. He glances over at me, and both our gazes swing up to the ceiling, as something crashes and breaks. Violet’s a little louder than usual.

“Now I feel like I have to compete with that, and that’s not fair. Damien’s a sex monster. He literally excels at sex. He wasn’t supposed to get a second turn before I got at least one turn,” Arion states, his tone implying this is a complicated development.

“Sounds like Vance is still in there too,” I state disbelievingly.

“What the hell do you three do so differently from me?” Arion’s serious gaze meets mine, as if he’s genuinely expecting an answer.

I could likely kick Vance’s ass if I really wanted to. He’s not gotten weaker, but he doesn’t really mix things up much either. That means I still have a shot of kicking Arion’s ass, even if he does seem stronger than what he was when he went under.

“You came out stronger, as if going mostly dormant somehow empowered you. Idun’s been under far longer, which brings forth some even more alarming concerns. I almost feel like you’re manipulating all this to get Idun out right now,” I say very seriously, not that he gives a damn.

He remains distracted by the sounds overhead.

I’m positive that crashing noise is the bed falling apart.

Arion looks like he’s about to intervene, when Violet makes a sound that assures him she’s just fucking fine.

He’s studying the ceiling too hard, probably because it sounds like they’re using more of their strength on her than even I did.

“Speaking of stronger…” Arion’s words trail off for a beat when something even heavier thuds to the ground.

“Is it just me, or do the mortals seem a little stronger than I recall?” he asks as he darts a suspicious look my way.

“Violet is a Portocale gypsy who has been hunted and survived at least three attacks from Idun’s cult of followers,” I point out in deflection. “And killed four vampires. She knows what she can handle.”

“You talked all around my question,” he immediately says, eyes on me with too much intensity. “What do you know that I don’t know?”