“Violet’s reminded us numerous times that it’s not about us,” I dutifully tell them all.

Our gazes all exchange from one to another as we hold our words and give this more serious thought.

“Marta holds the most information about Violet,” Arion finally says on a slight groan, pushing his face against the palm of his hand.

“I’m sure as hell not calling her,” Damien assures all of us.

“If Pandora did have a hand in crafting Violet, I doubt it’s a good thing,” Emit says as he looks at all of us again. “She doesn’t care about anything but the Simpletons. She took painstaking measures to try and save them, and ran away when she couldn’t, because she was in love with Bobo, and had a huge soft spot for Caroline.”

We all bristle, because suddenly that seems like a more likely theory once again.

“If she did help to create Violet, it’d be to take all of Idun’s attention. That’d be the reason Marta Portocale was given a daughter. Idun hates a Portocale more than she hates a Simpleton. Give her a Portocale Simpleton she can torture for all eternity—”

“And suddenly Caroline and the others are finally free,” I state, finishing the sentence.

“She looked directly at Marta and told her mother that it’s what she was made for, and said Marta knew it,” Arion says so quietly, as though that’s just occurred to him. “Maybe Violet already knows this.”

This conversation started exciting. Now…it’s brutally sickening.

Idun will never get her hands on Violet the way she had her hands on Caroline. I don’t care how many deaths I have to suffer, nor do I care how many of my knights I have to sacrifice.

“As soon as I get to feed, I’ll spin you some exciting illusions, little one,” Damien chirps, talking to the child as though the infant can understand a damn thing he’s saying.

I glare over at the fool. “This is serious, Damien. If Violet is by some fucked-up, graceless, comic punching bag meant to tempt Idun away from Caroline—”

“She’ll still be ours,” he says, interrupting me, while not taking his eyes off Jasper. “She made my heart beat again, and for the first time in ages, it didn’t feel so much like a damning nightmare. It doesn’t matter what purpose she has. She’s still going to be my Flame, and I’ll protect her to my dying breath.”

“Your people still refer to brides as Flames?” Emit asks with a surprised, embarrassed-for-him expression.

“It’s less lame than the Romanian original term used for our version of mates,” Damien mutters, narrowing his eyes at the werewolf. “My monster has had her before. The only reason she wasn’t claimed then is likely because she was in the middle of breaking a curse that shouldn’t have been so easily broken.”

“Or she just isn’t meant for you,” Emit drawls.

Damien’s hiss and distorted illusion of a face actually sends the wolf reeling back in surprise. His fist wrenches back like he’s about to pounce, as static clings to his hair very abruptly.

Damien smirks, as the small touch of his illusion drops, his face back to normal and no longer demonic.

“I hate it when you do that shit,” Emit gripes.

“I hate the fact that I tell you lot that Pandora likely had a hand in creating Violet, excited by the prospect, and you all changed it into something nefarious and terrifying,” Arion bites out, really annoyed with us.

Damien shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. “It’s not like we’re going to magically come up with answers right now. Pandora is too crazed by this point. It’s more likely she’s in a cave slinging her own poop at monkeys. Besides, she lost her magic, did she not?”

I open my mouth to interject my own opinion on the matter, not that anyone cares, when there’s suddenly a fifth voice in the room.

“Powerless or not, Pandora is irrelevant.”

We all jerk our gazes to the door where Marta Portocale is walking in, a somber expression on her face, as she finishes that statement.

“You’ve been eavesdropping,” I deduce, my eyes narrowing to slits.

“Only because the vampire left Sanctuary in a hurry and with Jasper,” Marta states like that makes it all okay.

She takes a seat near the fire, and Emit purposely slides away from her.

“You mated my daughter with a mark so big no one will believe you weren’t trying to rip her to shreds,” Marta grinds out, glaring at him.

“I exhausted myself to keep her from feeling any pain. Does that make me your favorite new son-in-law?” Damien drawls from the bed, as he tucks Jasper against his side.

Marta starts to speak, but then her eyes steady on the lad.

“Violet didn’t tell me Jasper’s secret. The four of you shouldn’t talk so freely outside of a soundproof room. It’s always been an issue for you. Fortunately, I ensured no one else heard. There’s a barrier spell that should last for another two hours,” she says, as her eyes flit over to mine.

I hate it when this bitch tells us what we should or shouldn’t do. In this case, however, I have to agree we’re a little careless.

“It doesn’t really matter if someone discovers what the lad is or what Violet is. I’ll just rip their spines out the second I smell them,” Arion states with a shrug of his shoulder.